


His Last Bow

by messageredacted



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messageredacted/pseuds/messageredacted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty years in the future, Sherlock and John meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Last Bow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for thegameison_sh prompt: Older/Younger
> 
> Originally written on 2 April 2011.

The wind was tugging a few wisps of clouds across the sky and tossing the bare branches of the trees. The lights from inside the house lit their backs and sent their shadows stretching down the stairs. Sherlock bent to put the valise on the ground and then straightened again, looking up at the sky.

“It’s times like this that I wish I could still smoke,” he said.

John smiled, tucking his hands in his pockets. He could appreciate the sentiment, even if cigarettes had been illegal in England for twenty years now. “Surely you don’t still feel cravings after all this time.”

Sherlock sent him a sideways glance. “Some things are hard to give up,” he said.

The tone in his voice made John want to turn away again, but instead he studied his friend’s face. The years had been kinder to Sherlock than John would have expected, although to be honest it was a surprise that Sherlock had survived this long at all. Now at the age of sixty, Sherlock was as wiry and thin as ever, but there was a weathered look to him now. His hair was shot through with silver, making him look almost distinguished. He was still wearing most of the disguise he had worn for the past two years, pretending to be a Russian mechanic with access to sensitive information, but even in the working man’s clothes, he had the same elegance that John remembered.

“It’s been too long,” John said. He could still feel the warm buzz of adrenaline that came at the close of a case, even though he hadn’t been too involved in this one until the very end.

“You’re back in the service,” Sherlock said. It wasn’t a question.

“Not on active duty, but I try to play my part,” said John. “With the war coming…” He let himself trail off and glanced down the steps to where his car sat parked. The Chinese diplomat sat in the back seat, his wrists cuffed together. The car was meant to transport prisoners, and had an anti-reception field that would render any of the diplomat’s phones or other devices useless so he wouldn’t be able to contact his allies, but John had never been able to completely trust the technology these days. He had lost track of the newest gadgets in recent years. Maybe he was getting old.

“The war,” Sherlock drawled sardonically, also looking towards the car. “I don’t suppose I’ll see you again after this.”

“Sherlock, don’t say that,” John said quickly. “We’ll still be around when this is over. Wars come and go.”

John’s phone beeped in his pocket. He sighed and didn’t check it, but he stepped down toward the car, leaving Sherlock standing at the top of the stairs.

“In another decade, then,” Sherlock said. “After your divorce.”

Annoyance surged in John but he held it back. It wasn’t entirely his fault that he and Sherlock had fallen out of touch in the years since his marriage to Sarah. Sherlock could have emailed, but he never did. John bit his lip and refused to ask how Sherlock knew that his marriage was having trouble.

Behind them, the lights in the house went out as the motion sensor stopped detecting movement. It left them in the light of the moon and the running lights of the car.

“In a year,” John said firmly, taking another step toward the car and then pausing again. “If you’re not undercover again. We’ll arrange to get together.”

Sherlock shrugged carelessly and then smiled. “A year,” he agreed.

“I promise,” John said. He caught Sherlock’s eyes, although in the darkness it was mostly shadow. “Don’t get yourself killed in the meantime.”

John’s phone beeped again. Sherlock lifted his hand in a wave, and after a moment’s hesitation John waved back. He got into the car and shut the door.

The Chinese diplomat began threatening him with an international incident again, but John paid him no mind. He adjusted the rearview mirror to catch one more glimpse of Sherlock standing on the stairs. The rear lights of the car lit Sherlock red as John drove away.


End file.
